Impossible
by drama fixated
Summary: It was sad and irritating really, how he could completely take over her thoughts. And it was pathetic, as he was the only one she could occupy her ponderings with. Sequel to Brat. [InuKag]


Disclaimer: Inuyasha's not mine, thank you very much. He's all Rumiko Takahashi's. The only thing I own is the fic.

Author's Note: This was an unintentional sequel to _Brat_ – my other IY story. Once again this goes out to **Romy**, for not only being patient while I was trying to find an idea for this, but for also being a wonderful friend. (hugs)

"He" is Inuyasha, "she" is Kagome. And yes, this is ridiculously sappy and OOC. Oh well. -.-

- - -

She watched him stomp off, following him with angry, narrowed eyes.

Honestly, the nerve of him! As his figure gradually merged with the shadows, she tried to calm herself down. _Take deep breaths, Kagome. It won't do any good to stay mad for a long time – I'm just wasting my time, and energy, on a jerk who won't change!_

Her fury abated and she was left with only exhaustion to take its place. i Why does being annoyed with him make me so tired? /i She couldn't help but wonder idly. Never mind that his immaturity made her want to cry more than "SIT!" at him – his personality itself was enough to make the most tolerant woman swear. _That's what you get when you have to travel with a youkai – even if he's half._

She sighed, and went back into the house.

Once she was inside, her thoughts continued to concentrate more on him, if that was even possible. It was sad and irritating really, how he could completely take over her thoughts. And it was pathetic, as he was the only one she could occupy her ponderings with.

While his personality sure as anything _was not _entertaining, the way he often dealt with things that were foreign to him was.

Maybe his malice was rubbing off on her or something; she reflected, shuddering at the very mention of it. As she knew she wouldn't think of someone's – _ahem_ – obliviousness as amusing.

Then her thoughts wandered to their argument, and the last words they had exchanged before he had stormed out.

"_That's so chauvinistic of you!"_ She had to practically wince at how judgmental that sounded.

"_Well, you wouldn't understand, would you? After all, you haven't been betrayed by the one person whom you **thought** trusted you the most, and they thought the same about you, at least, you thought they did, have you! You've never known pain, Kagome – so don't preach to me what is right and what is wrong. In the end you may be the one who's wrong, not me."_

And she had to wince even more at hearing the echoes of his screams in her mind.

It wasn't really her fault that she couldn't understand him when he wouldn't even share what he had gone through, was it? Honestly, how was she supposed to know what his secrets were if he never told her? She wasn't an ESP reader, nor telepathic.

And even if Kikyo had hurt him, and he felt that the endless pain would never end – couldn't he move on with his life? Just because Kikyo had been his true love didn't mean that the pain would have to last forever.

Pain was pain, no matter what the circumstance. And she was tired of his excuses – so she didn't know what true, heartrending pain felt like; so she didn't know the bliss of true love. So she knew nothing about how he felt! Could he blame her for being clueless to what he felt when he didn't tell her of that?

She fumed. All she knew were the little pieces he scattered every now and then – the truth about his family, Kikyo . . she stopped herself there. If she went on any further, she knew that it would be too late to turn back.

But _augh, _he was impossible! She exhaled. _In, out, in, out. _ Impossible to live with, impossible to live without . .

At that her scowl faded. A feeling that she couldn't define came over her – one that she could closely describe as falling off a precipice. Or crossing an invisible line, a barrier between the both of them. Maybe even a shield they had both constructed to hide themselves from more pain than they had already seen, heard or felt.

She exhaled again. Since she was the more empathic out of the two of them, she supposed she would have to be more _understanding._

But this was different – not only did she know what she felt about him now, she wasn't sure what he felt about her.

_I was better off not knowing what I feel about him, _she thought. _But now it's too late. It's always too late. And now it'll be a while before our stubborn selves will swallow our pride up and say sorry to the other person. And then only when that happens, that person will be forgiven._

She sighed again. _Do I always have to be the first person to apologize? Even that time when I left this world for home, he never said sorry._

And it never would hurt him to say those two seemingly little words, would it?

She kicked angrily at a mat. _Oh, great, now I'm starting to act like him. _Rolling her eyes skywards, she walked over to her mat and sat down.

All of a sudden, her anger flamed once more. As if she didn't have a burden on her shoulders already, he had to add himself to that!

Kami-sama – why couldn't he leave her alone, for once? Why couldn't he leave her thoughts, her heart, her soul – why couldn't he just leave _her_ and be done with it?

After all, she mused, he was the only one who had any use of the Shikon Jewel. Yet he journeyed with her to find the shattered pieces – and showed her his worth many times. So why hadn't he left? She had to wonder about it.

They didn't even get along most of the time – ninety nine percent of the time they could be found by their comrades bickering like a married couple.

She had to smile to herself at that analogy.

Then as instantly her smile came, it disappeared. Yes, maybe they hadn't gotten along – but they were a team. A unity of two. If one left, the other wouldn't survive. If there were two, there would be hell to reckon with.

And so now here they were, still working together, and arguing like they had always done. What had changed, then?

Was it that every day she discovered something new about him? Or was it that somehow, somehow – he made her day brighter? As ironic as that sounded – it was true. She had to admit it, even if it was to herself at that moment.

Or was it that even if she was Kikyo's reincarnation – he had accepted her for who she was? Not Kikyo being reborn? And he had realized that the two of them were different as different could be – even if they looked alike and has the same fiery countenance?

That she didn't know; but all she could do was hope. Hope for the best and that everything would work out. It wouldn't exactly be a "happily ever after" ending, but it would be close to one.

Maybe she was hoping too much – but that was all she had. Hope and – she didn't dare voice the word aloud; only think it, a silent whisper in her mind. _Love._

She sensed a presence then and turned around. To face the last person she thought she would see, after how everything had last ended between them.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then quickly shut it, as if he had changed his mind.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "You were about to say something?" Her voice broke the silence between them, prodding him on.

He couldn't back out like a coward now. "I came here," he said gruffly, "to ask that you forgive me."

A blank look was all he got in response.

Throwing up his hands in the air as if in surrender, he sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Kagome. I'm very sorry – I shouldn't have said all that stuff to you, because honestly I haven't even _told _you anything about my past, except small parts. And I didn't expect you to understand – but now . . ."

His voice drifted off. "I don't know. You might understand what I went through, you might not. All you can do is listen – that's the best thing you can do. And, I guess, before in my mind, I thought you wouldn't listen. I thought you wouldn't understand. I don't even _know_ if you'll forgive me or forget my existence now.

"But I know this – you would listen, you would understand, somehow. This sounds sappy, but deep in my heart, I know it. It's like a hunch. And hunches are never wrong." He offered her a tentative smile. "I'm really sorry. It's up to you whether I deserve a punishment or not for being such an idiot . . ." Once again his voice drifted off, leaving nothing but a pensive silence between the two of them.

Finally a moment later, she spoke. "You do realize that you're going to have to work at being forgiven," she remarked dryly. "But – I'm sorry too. I really am. Although you _are _chauvinistic."

He rolled his eyes. "Am not, you know it. And . . . you're forgiven. How about me?"

She thought about it for a minute, her eyes on the floor. Suddenly her eyes swerved back up to look at him. "You're forgiven, too," she said quietly.

His smile was radiant, and for some reason he felt like bouncing off the walls. Instead, he managed to control his swift euphoria, walked over to her and held out his hand.

She looked quizzically at it, then at him, as if wondering what he was offering. Friendship? A possible truce?

"Take it," He said wryly.

She took it, ignoring the questions that were rampaging in her mind.

He looked at their intertwined hands. "we're connected. Nothing can break us apart, except ourselves.

"And," he took a deep breath, meeting her eyes, "now we are possible."


End file.
